The Four Poster
Part 3
Jonathan Greer
Then she turned and took a deep breath, said Shit, it’s morning, and sat up.
He thought about feigning sleep, letting her rise and walk to the bathroom. When her back was turned he might risk a glimpse. Not that he needed to. He had memorized those thighs and could pick that ass out of a million. But this was good light. It softened angles and turned her into another being entire.
So he stole a peek, felt himself stiffen, and wondered if he had time. His noise was not a problem. He could be silent as the grave. It was the threat of her returning unexpected. Standing in the doorway with a steaming cup of coffee. Her hand on the flesh of her hip. The look on her face, and way she would say Are you fucking kidding me? and throw his pillow across the room, storming away.
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